Chapter Text
Fire was common on the battlefield. Little specks of orange and grey floating through the air, being carried by the wind blowing past soldiers, bringing little touches of dust to your face. Dust made from ash, your enemies flesh and blood, your fallen comrades skin. Fire was easily spread on the battle ground, bursts of flames and rock crashing into earth and onto the people below from the spell books of mages, casting tomes of fire, meteor and bolganone. Unlucky soldiers after being engulfed in shades of red, orange and yellow screaming as if feral. In a panic, running into one another like a group of newborn animals finding their feet for the first time, but instead of taking their very first exhilarating breaths of air and life, they were screaming out their very last. Bouncing into each other, infecting their team with the same fiery fate. That is if they hadn’t already tripped over the mass piles of fallen soldiers beneath their feet and succumbed to the flames.
Piles of dead, friends, family, comrades, enemies and kings everywhere. Trampled. It was pretty difficult to avoid them and the occasional trip or loss of balance while navigating through the fields as it was, nevermind if you were burning to death at the same time.
Felix knows luck isn’t real. War is down to skill and skill alone, but with the amount of soldiers they’ve lost and the huge amounts of villains they’ve slain in comparison, It’s cutting too close to luck. Especially when the flames only ever seem to spread to your enemies.
When the screaming is done, the earth is crisped and the bodies have cooled, the embers still ride along the wind and they catch his eyeline and he lets himself watch them drift along for a second. Little fiery reminders that he’s still alive. He could have been one of those dead and charred in the dirt. He could have been one of those screaming in pain and agony as the flames tore him apart. All limbs attached and not scorched off. Sight and hearing still present. Blood trickling down your face, neck and hands could have been your own, or if it is, it could have been worse. Much worse. It’s all so morbidly peaceful.
He continues to watch the flecks of orange and grey dance along the landscape and fizzle out into nothing. Allowing him time to revert back to the reality of where he is and why he is here. War. Taking in the sights in front of him, he can see there is still battling to be done in the distance, the sound of swords clashing against each other, the sounds of war cries and screams of victory. They’re so close, yet he’s so far from them all. He wants to be part of this victory.
He takes one step forward towards his goal and it’s then he notices a large ember fluttering by. It doesn’t seem to ride along the wind like the other cinders. It's freer, and jumps up and down almost in circles. It’s much larger, darker and longer. And sort of… feathery .
It’s a feather.
A flash of black zooms past him.
It’s a feather from a Gremory’s shawl.
She runs past him, trying to get some distance between them so she can throw a spell his way.
He grips his blade tighter and runs towards her at full speed. Readying his sword and aiming for her stomach. Distance between them is deadly, it’s up to him to keep closing the gap or he will end up like the bodies on the ground.
But it’s useless, she casts a wind tome that knocks his balance off and he drops his sword. She casts another quick blast and he’s pushed backwards and onto the ground.
Felix knows the flames are coming, he can feel the heat getting closer and closer, luckily she’s only sent out a fire tome and not bolganone. He rolls out of the way just narrowly avoiding being burnt, although he’s pretty sure this woman has singed his hair.
Unsheathing his dagger from its holding place on his thigh he dashes towards her, making a swipe at her throat. A miss. He swipes again. Another miss. She attacks him at a closer range this time, casting another fireball at him again. He jumps to the side to avoid it, tripping over a body in the process and falling onto his hands and knees. She’s going to kill him.
She starts to prepare for her next spell so he slashes her calves quickly, she screams out, falling over.
Felix strambles himself up off the ground in a hurry and stabs her in the shoulder, blood gushing out of her wound as he rips the blade back out of her.
He raises his arm higher to deliver a more devastating blow and she does the same thing, an arm stretched out towards him, red and purple smoke and sludge skipping in the air towards him. The sensation of being hit in the forehead overcomes him and he stumbles again, he watches the Gremory flash him a presumptive victory smirk as she gives him a gentle push and he topples over as if bucked off a unruly horse and she turns around and runs.
Right into the spear end of a glowing lance.
“Sorry, it was just bad timing.” The red head mutters, releasing the blade from the woman’s diaphragm, a squelch and blood is pouring out of her body as she exhales a final gasp.
Felix doesn’t remember being pushed over so violently, yet here he is panting like a thirsty dog on the ground, he’s half attempted to wave away Sylvain’s extended hand, but he’s in no position right now to wave away help.
So he accepts it and grabs onto his friend’s hand.
Sylvain pulls him up to his feet with one swift movement and Felix swings his arm around his neck, exhausted.
“Wow, wow, one too many, eh pal?” Sylvain jokes.
Felix grunts in response, “Shut up.”
Sylvain laughs, “Come on I’m kidding around. Seriously though, you don’t look good. Let’s get you to the medic.”
Felix shakes him off and takes a shaky step forward, “I’m fine.” He bites, “Just, get me over there.” as comments as he points vaguely to the horizon where the sounds of swords clashing are.
Sylvain places his hands on his hips, “Nah, walk there yourself.” he smirks.
Felix takes the bait and scoffs at him, “Fine.” he takes one step forward-
-and falls face first back into the dirt.
The redhead bends over, letting out a loud laugh, “Man, you probably have a magic overdose, you need to get to a medic. There’s no way you can fight right now. Just be sensible and get some rest.”
Felix pulls himself up onto his hands and knees, thankful he at least has the energy to do that, “I wasn’t even using any magic.”
Sylvain just rolls his eyes as he pulls Felix to his feet again, this time not as gently, maybe even roughly –punishment for his ungrateful attitude Felix assumes.
“We’re taking you to the medic tent and that’s final. Mercedes will patch you up, you can whine about it later.”
Felix turns to argue with him but he feels his brain shaking about in his head, plus Sylvain has that smug annoying ‘ you know I'm right’ look on his face and he really can not be bothered arguing with him about it right now. Not while his eyes are trying to adjust to the world’s crazy spinning right now.
Felix simply huffs in response, Sylvain knows him well enough to know that’s a signal that he’s given in to his look.
“Whatever.”
With the toss of a head and the click of the tongue, Sylvain calls for his horse to meet them. The dark grey stallion, who had been close by the entire time, trots over to the pair, and Sylvain holds out an arm to greet him, patting him on the face a couple times.
Shoving Felix onto the back of Pike, Sylvain hauls himself up, kicking the horse into action and towards the healers.
__________
As a soldier, Felix is well aware of how long and unstable the healing process can be, no energy equals no honing his skills in battle. It’s that simple. As a competitive man who likes to be kept busy with anything he deems worth his time and effort, it’s draining and boring. He’s been tucked up in bed, staring at the ceiling of his room for what feels like years and he’s still not feeling any better. Usually, after downing a couple of concoctions and having swabs doused with medicinal liquids and herbs shoved into his open wounds and healing sessions with Priests and having a good long nap, he would be better. The world is still spinning, everything is foggy, every now and then the sensation of pulsing passes through his head, as if his brain is expanding rapidly inside his skull and can’t escape.
This is just…pathetic now.
He’s been stuck in his room for about three whole days, and only slept properly for one of those days.
The only positive he can think of is the fact that Annette (the only non-annoying person in this whole damn army for some reason) had graced him with her presence once or twice. She didn’t over-do it with her visits (not that hers were unwanted, of course) , like some other comrades of his. Their pitying faces, worried sighs, constant ‘are you okay? Are you sure? Do you need anything?’s. All over-reactions. At least Annette had the guts to tease him about his situation a little. She had just the right ratio of worrying to teasing.
The swordsman groans and sits up straight, the room trembles for a few long seconds. Perhaps getting something to eat will help him feel better, or even simply just the walk to the kitchen will. Anything to get him out of this hole.
He stumbles out the door and towards his destination.
Maybe all the tossing and turning, struggling to get comfortable wasn’t in vain because he must be asleep right now, or even half-asleep. He’s walking, but it feels more like he’s gliding very very slowly down the hallways. Hallways that seem to get longer and longer with ceilings that get taller and taller, causing him to feel as if he’s shrinking. Nothing seems real, it’s almost like a lucid dream because his perception of everything has changed drastically, lights are more vivid, sounds range from too quiet to too loud and everything just won’t stop spinning. His head aches and he slaps a hand over his face, saints this is relentless.
The world starts to darken and he wobbles, his foot slipping off one of the steps leading up to the mess hall from outside near the greenhouse and docks, he frantically waves out his hand to grab onto the wall to steady himself - but soon realises there’s no wall. He’s outside now. Since when was he outside? This is dangerous now. He’s completely unaware of where he is. This could be another magical attack. He could be on the battlefield right this very second.
After catching his balance, Felix quickly pats down his sides. Shit. He’s forgotten his weapons. His swords, daggers and apparently his consciousness.
This probably isn’t real. Or he isn’t real anymore, he isn’t sure.
A swordsman without his reflexes is no swordsman at all. A man without a weapon on the battlefield is usually a dead man, and right now that’s exactly what Felix’s feels like. A dead man walking on two legs, one foot at a time, mindlessly like one of those horrid projections of ghosts and demons that black magic can conjure up right before your eyes, past soldiers and friends startling you to literal death. Is this what he is now? A ghost?
Well, that would make two of them.
He can’t remember why on earth he was making his way down towards this area, he can’t really remember why he does anything at all.
...Felix?
He looks towards the voice beckoning him towards her. A lantern in hand, the soft flame illuminating her features, bouncing off the ends of her eyelashes occasionally, sparking like fireworks. A display of freckles on her face, similar to stars, round face, clear skin accompanied by rosy cheeks.
An angel here to lead him into the afterlife, probably . If that’s what he even deserves.
Felix tries to take one step towards her, his vision blurs for a second and he stumbles. Before he knows it, she’s rushed over to his side propping him up as much as she can.
Felix, are you feeling okay?
Oh, It’s Annette. Maybe he’s not going insane. Relief washes over him for a split second before he reads the expression on her face, concern. Is Felix a person people are generally concerned for? He always assumed people just knew he could take care of himself, but a lot of people seem to be worried about him lately and, honestly, he doesn't understand how to take that. Gods, he’s tired. Why was he wandering around here again? Late at night, shouldn’t he be asleep? Shouldn’t he be able to sleep when he’s this tired? This exhausted? This drained? Should he-
“Felix, I asked you a question.” There’s pressure from a small hand, squeezing his arm.
“Sorry, I had trouble concentrating for a second. What did you ask?”
“For a second? Felix! You’ve been wobbling all over the place for the last 5 minutes! You nearly fell down the steps! I asked you if you were feeling okay. What are you doing out here so late?”
Felix reaches a hand to his head, brushing his hair from his eyesight in an attempt to free himself from this dizziness taking over his body. Maybe his hair is getting too long again and messing with his vision and depth perception. Maybe.
“I…I can’t remember.”
“You can’t remember!?” Annette holds up the lantern higher to get a better look at his face, her eyes widen at the sight. “Felix, you don’t look well at all…”
He just grunts in response, moving his fingers to cover his eyes.
Annette continues, “Do you…Want me to help you to your room?”
Felix grunts again with a nod, “...Please.” He admits quietly.
She gently grabs hold of his hand, pulling it away from his face. She gives him a small tug, “Come on. We’ll go slowly.”
Usually Felix would not allow himself to be seen hand in hand with any woman. Not because he has no interest in romance, love, sex, family and basic companionship, gods no. The idea of people knowing Felix has feelings beyond determination, motivation and pride is unbearable. The idea that he is actually capable of letting himself be vulnerable with someone is unbearable. When you’re raised in a family that seems to only value strength, discipline and irrational loyalty to insanity, other emotions become weak and embarrassing to have. No matter how much you long for them.
Admitting that he’s actually quite enjoying the warmth of Annette’s hand in his is way too similar to weakness.
Then again, here he is.
Hand in hand.
Perhaps he is weak.
Perhaps something really is wrong with him.
He gives her hand a gentle squeeze, “Annette?”
She squeezes back.
There’s a pause.
“Thank you…”
Annette lets out a small comforting giggle, “You’re welcome, Felix.”
He can let this moment of personal weakness slide, this one moment of vulnerability, just this once.
“Now, let’s get you moving mister!” She gives him a gentle tug, motivating him to slowly try moving his legs once again. Leading him away from the stairs and on his way to the dorms.
Felix can feel his body wobble with every foot step and thinks Annette must feel it too with the way she keeps glancing between the floor and back to him, tightening her grip on his hand, smiling at him reassuringly between every step. Simply being around her presence is soothing. Her smile too captivating and with every little step, every little head turn, every little smile towards him and every little confirmation that he’s doing well, he smiles back as much as he can through the act of focusing very intensely as to not fall over and crush her and also break his neck in the process. Annette guiding him to his resting place, the lights shining against her hair almost create a little halo effect on the top of her head. Perhaps she is an angel.
“Am…I going to die?” He blurts out, too childishly for his liking.
Annette’s angelic façade drops, “W-WHAT? No!” she laughs awkwardly, “What gives you that idea?!”
Gods, here comes the embarrassment he was thinking about earlier. He can feel his face burning up, so he looks down and off to the side to avoid Annette’s eyes, expecting her to laugh in his face or call him a silly name. Instead he hears the sounds of clanking metal as she sets down her lantern. She places another hand on top of the hand already holding hers, sandwiching it between hers. Her tone changes from shock to reassurance again.
“No, Felix. I’m going to look after you.”
He glances back at her slowly and offers a hum in response.
“I know you’re probably scared now, but I promise I won’t let anything happen to you! Okay?-”
She lifts a hand to his face and rubs his chin, “So, don’t worry! Lets just worry about getting you to bed without tripping over your own feet.”
Felix nods, he’s too woozy now to admit to her that he is in fact, scared, also too embarrassed to admit he doesn’t fully remember how they got into this situation. All he remembers is feeling lost and pained and suddenly comforted and warm. This day is a mess. He’s thankful he still remembers Annette and her silly yet completely endearing and adorable songs , the way her feet can find the beat of any song and how she can liven up his day without even trying.
“Will you sing me a lullaby?” He blurts out in an almost inebriated-like state.
Annette rolls her eyes and stomps her foot, “ FEEEELIX! Why must you tease me now of all times! I’m trying to be nice to you! I’ll push you over, I swear I will!”
Felix wobbles backwards threatening to fall back against the hallway wall, bringing a hand up to cover his eyes again, “I’m not, I’m serious -Gods, my head hurts- maybe your voice will-” the hallway starts to cave in on him and he slumps back against the wall, “-heal me.”
The small amount of light that was breaking through the fingertips that were sheltering his eyes starts to flicker until he’s met with the sound of buzzing. His legs fail to hold him up, he slides down the wall until he meets the ground, all the while holding onto Annette’s hand, dragging her down too.
He can hear the worry in her voice as she yells out for someone, anyone to help. The sensation of warm hands cupping his face.
Before he knows it, the world goes black.
He can hear Annette call out to him reassuring him once again, that she will look after him, and he believes her.
Before he knows it, the world goes quiet.